This is the latest flash fic challenge from Chuck Wendig. And here’s my story. Thanks to CDNWMN for the sentence.
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Rapture
Demons and angels are sometimes hard to differentiate, and they are even harder to kill. I know this the hard way.
I fired off the last round of silver buckshot before slamming the door. Salt and silver nitrate were fixed to the floor by glue, but that would be a minor inconvenience for the big boys. Even the sacred symbol made of iron nails hammered into the ceiling wouldn’t hold them back for long. This was it.
I retreated behind the overturned sofa, where I had piled up all my ammo. I broke open the shotgun as I sat down, and loaded the chambers with the hybrid shells I’d invented. They contained silver shavings, iron...

Chuck Wendig had another flash fic challenge, and this is my addition to it. A little story about a werewolf, and a surprising weakness.
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Big, Bad
Fear smelled like honeyed wine. Carlo followed its bright, intoxicating trail through the dark woods, running so fast it felt like his paws barely touched the ground. Up ahead he could hear the helpless cries of his prey, hopelessly trying to escape.
Up ahead, he saw a squat square building that reeked of rotten, moldering wood. Did they think that was enough to save them? He charged towards the flimsy door, and flung himself at it with all his strength …
… and rebounded off of it as he heard a sickening crack, and felt a lightning bolt of pain strike deep inside his skull. He landed on all fours and shook his...

Too late for Christmas comes this atrocious, abominable tale that shouldn’t be read by anyone with a heart condition, dyspepsia, dropsy, dysplasia of the skull, male pregnancy, headupyourassitis, toffee beak, or anyone who’s had a humorectomy.
This is foul, nasty, uncalled for, blasphemous, and anachronistic. So, hope you enjoy.
Foul language and violence, as always.
If you haven’t turned back by now, it’s too late.
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Manger Massacre
By Andrea “You’re Just Asking For Trouble” Speed, with Some Dialogue Bits and Other Neat Stuff by Brandon “Yes, She’s Asking For Trouble” Schatz
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What has God wrought?” Joseph asked, kicking the head of Melchior closer to its former body....

Disclaimer: This is a nasty and disturbed piece of work. If you are disturbed by graphic violence involving beloved Christmas characters, don’t read it. Go read something nice instead. The writer nor the site is responsible for any emotional or mental distress if you read it anyways. (No, the baby Jesus doesn’t kill anyone … that’s the next story, Manger Massacre.)
JINGLE HELL
The good thing about a hard frost was he didn’t have to worry about dogs digging up the body.It wasn’t that the ground was all that hard, although it could be, especially in the area around the old septic tank, where liquid waste had permeated the ground and made it a swampy, smelly morass during all but the driest days of the year. No, it was the lack of smell...